


Set Sail

by liesmyth



Category: The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Gen, Pirates, Post-Canon, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth
Summary: “And if we were pirates we’d have our own ship, to sail across the Seven Seas and rob the treasure fleet of the Spanish Crown. But we never robbed the treasure fleet.” Not for lack of trying, but Tulio keeps that to himself. “We are penniless, and ship-less. We're innocent."





	Set Sail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alyndra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyndra/gifts).



> Dear Alyndra, thank you so much for such a lovely prompt! 
> 
> Happy Yuletide!

“Pirates,” Tulio says, looking for all the world a truly baffled man. “ _Pirates_. Us? Captain, with all due respect. If we were pirates, we wouldn’t need to seek refuge on your ship now, would we?”

“—Which we are truly grateful for,” Miguel interrupts, because the Captain’s eyes have started to glower. It happens, sometimes, when one has been listening to Tulio for too long. “Really grateful. You are a kind and merciful man and we’ll remember you in our prayers.”

“And if we were pirates, this wouldn’t have happened. Because we’d have our own ship, to sail across the Seven Seas and rob the treasure fleet of the Spanish Crown. But we never robbed the treasure fleet.” Not for lack of trying, but Tulio keeps that to himself. “We are penniless, and ship-less. We’re not pirates.”

As a boy with three older sisters and later as a young man with a penchant for rule-breaking, Tulio has learned that it’s often very beneficial to confess to a small crime to hide a larger one. And so, with the wide earnest eyes of a mortified man with nothing more to hide, he says, “We were stowaways.” 

It’s not even a lie, he compliments himself. They have been stowaways once, and they wouldn’t be here today if not for that fortuitous accident all those years ago. Since then, they’ve been on board enough ships to lose count. This one, the _Windswept Lady_ , is the head of a three-ship merchant convoy captained by one Captain Gabriel Francisco Alfor of Valencia, who picked them up from a shipwreck just when they’d begun to fear their luck might have run out for good, then immediately put them in irons on suspicion of piracy when they couldn’t prove they’d been part of the crew of the treasure ship that had been boarded by pirates and left to sink. Mixed fortune, as some might say.

“Stowaways,” Captain Alfor repeats. His voice is heavy with doubt. “On a treasure ship full of silver and spices, sailing from Panama _to Spain_?” With every word, the Captain’s thick brows threaten to climb up higher into his hairline. “The criminals and the derelicts usually run the other way.”

 _Derelicts_ , Miguel mouths to Tulio, rolling his eyes at Alfor’s tone. _The nerve_.

“Derelicts,” Tulio says, infusing the word with every ounce of outrage he can muster — which, as someone who once successfully impersonated a Bishop, is quite a lot. “No, that’s not it. We are gamblers.” And then, playing right into the Captain’s suspicions. “We just got unlucky, once or twice.”

“You’re running from debtors.” It’s not a question. “What do they even do to debtors out in the Main? Send you to the plantations? In Spain, it’ll be prison.”

“So you _are_ taking us to Spain,” Miguel says. “Excellent, Captain, much appreciated.” He makes as if to cross his arms, then makes a face when the heavy manacles prevent him from moving. “Can we see our brig now?”

He shrugs, nonchalant, with perhaps a bit too much effort. As he does something falls from his sleeve down to the deck, making a metallic noise as it hits the iron of the manacle. It’s large and gold, eight escudos worth, and Tulio watches it roll across the wooden boards with his heart heavy in his chest. And they’d been doing so well this time, too.

 The gold coin comes to a stop right at the Captain’s feet, as if to make sure he absolutely can’t miss it. Alfor picks it up and turns it in the palm of his hand, feeling the weight of it. “A doubloon,” he says, lightly. Too lightly. “And you are thieves, and liars.” His mouth curls. “And possibly pirates. You won’t make it to Spain. This ends now. You’re going out on deck, and—”

And that’s when someone starts knocking, frantically, against the door to the Captain’s cabin. “Captain! Captain, please!” It sounds like the cabin boy, young and easily shaken, pounding on the wood with both fists. “Captain, we’re being boarded!”

Well, then. “Those are real pirates,” Miguel takes some pleasure in saying. “Not like us. Better go see what they want, Captain.”

Alfor snarls something at them — an insult, sounds like, and orders the cabin boy to watch them, even though in those chains they certainly aren’t going anywhere.

“And _hijo_ _de puta_ to you too,” Tulio calls after him, making half a vulgar gesture with his bound hands. Then, to the cabin boy, “We’re pirates,” he says, “and you, you are getting boarded by our friends. If you help us get free now, we’ll remember that.”

“You’re pirates.” Unlike his Captain, the cabin boy sounds pretty sceptical. “Then how come you ended up stranded without a ship?”

Miguel throws back his head and laughs. He’s beautiful, all sunshine hair and quick smile, and he really shouldn’t be making fun of Tulio’s little mishap just about now.

“That’s really not the point,” Tulio says, in the same moment that Miguel says, “We fell overboard.”

“ _Miguel_.”

“Tulio. He asked.”

“Yes, but…” Tulio sputters. “We have a reputation to maintain.”

The cabin boy is looking between the two of them, confused. Miguel meets his eyes. “He’s always like that. You think after the incident with the barmaids he’d have given up on dignity, and yet.” Then, holding his chained hands in front of his face, “Keys?”

Just then there’s a sound like a crash from the outer deck, and the whole ship seems to shake.

“I think we’re treading water. Are you going to help us, or…”

“ _Fine._ ” The cabin boy says. He starts rummaging around the Captain’s desk for the keys. “But if your pirate friends… can you tell them — don’t throw me overboard,” he says, pleadingly. He can’t be a day over sixteen, and Miguel laughs.

“Don’t worry, that only happens by accident.”

The shouts on the deck grow louder, closer; once the cabin boy finds the keys it takes him a while to open Miguel’s manacles, and Tulio’s take longer still. But they’re finally free by the time the cabin door slams open, and Chel walks in escorting a sour-looking Captain Alfor.

“There you are!” Her smile is bright and a little cocky, but they deserve that. “I heard you needed rescuing.”

She’s wearing a large-brimmed hat and a cutlass at her side, and the can of her pistol is pressed into Alfor’s side. “This one says he was about to throw you from the plank.”

“We had it under control,” Tulio says, but Miguel’s elbow hits him sharply in the arm and he corrects himself. “But we definitely needed rescuing. Thank you.”

He catches a glimpse of the cabin boy staring between the three of them, wide-eyed, so he points to Chel and says, “This lady here is Captain Chel. _She_ has successfully robbed the Spanish treasure, once or twice. Unlike us,” he throws that in for Alfor’s benefit. “She’s the better pirate by far.”

The cabin boy looks suitably impressed, and Tulio winks at him. To Chel, he asks, “Are we going? We should leave the Captain here to his hull repairs.”

He walks to the door and Chel moves aside to let him pass, but Miguel takes his time searching Captain Alfor’s pockets for his coin. “This is my lucky doubloon,” he says, waving it in the air before pocketing it.

They step out on deck with the cabin boy running ahead of them, undoubtedly eager to get out of the way before the Captain’s bad mood turns on him. Miguel, who’s always had a soft spot for children, grabs him by the arm and whispers something in his ears, but Tulio doesn’t pay attention. He’s too busy kissing Chel, smiling against her lips.

“You,” he whispers, “came in just at the _perfect_ moment.”

“Yes, that would have gone badly if you hadn’t,” Miguel says. “Don’t I get a kiss?”

“You almost got us killed. That wasn’t your lucky doubloon. You don’t have a lucky anything. Give it to me, I’ll throw it into the ocean myself.”

Miguel spreads out his hands – empty. Chel laughs. “I gave it to the cabin boy,” he admits, over Tulio’s sputters.

Around them the deck is quiet, Chel’s crew working efficiently, checking if there’s anything interesting in the cargo. They should be done soon; they wouldn’t take _that_ much from a merchant ship, and Chel stubbornly refuses to take gold unless it’s from a treasure ship. Tulio thinks she’s beautiful and fearless, and a little foolish, but since Miguel agrees with her there’s nothing he can do.

“Well, I think we’re done here,” Chel says. She holds out her arms, one each for both of her boys, and they leave the _Lady_ ’s deck behind.

–

They're sixty miles away at sea when they find the cabin boy hidden between two barrels of salted pork in the hold, stowing away.


End file.
